


things we make in the dark

by Morning66



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: First War with Voldemort, Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:22:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29052822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morning66/pseuds/Morning66
Summary: This is something that came from nights of drinking and laughing and talking, from races on brooms under the moonlight and summers long past spent at the pond behind James's childhood home.This is something entirely different than what he has with Lily.
Relationships: Sirius Black/James Potter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	things we make in the dark

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!!! =D
> 
> Warnings: infidelity, swearing, brief mentions of implied past child abuse

It takes thirty seven minutes to get a laugh out of Sirius, which James thinks is just bloody ridiculous. Well, a real laugh, anyhow, barking mad like a dog into the quiet flat, clutching at his sides desperately.

"Fuck, ow," Sirius says when he finally calms down. "Still haven't healed right from that bloody Cutting Curse last week."

James laughs. "Bloody Cutting Curse! Get it?"

"Hilarious, Prongs," Sirius drawls, stretching out on the sofa and crossing his arms behind his head.

The Cutting Curse in question had come from a hooded Death Eater during one of their routine recon missions. Well, it was supposed to be routine, but somehow ended with wands drawn, which honestly can be said about a lot of missions these days.

It hadn't been a normal curse, though. Blood had poured out onto the grey alley stone, too much of it for the relatively small cut on Sirius's abdomen. It'd refused to clot for ages, only worsening when they tried to use healing spells. In the end, they'd just used Muggle bandages and disinfectant and hoped it would work.

They did a lot of hoping, these days.

Sirius had been firmly convinced it was Snape's work, that it could only be Snape's work. He'd kept insisting and insisting, until Lily finally gave him a slap across the face and told him to never say Severus's name in her presence again. (Severus, James noticed, not Snape, but didn't comment.)

Privately, James agreed with Sirius that it was probably Snape's handiwork. That had always been his specialty back in school, ingenious curses that could probably kill a man, but weren't Unforgivable, just Dark. Whatever had been used against Sirius seemed remarkably similar to a curse Snape used against him in fifth year, with a few add ons. Still, he figured saying so to his pregnant wife wouldn't be the best idea.

Now, James reaches over and rests a hand on Sirius's abdomen, above where he knows the cut is. "How's it doing?" 

"S'okay," he says. "Don't think it's infected, but Evans should probably give it a good once over."

While by no means medically trained, Lily's knowledge of Muggle remedies far surpasses their own courtesy of spending her first eleven years as a rambunctious Muggle girl. When someone needs bandages applied or a wound cleaned, they come to Lily.

"Evans?" James questions, smirking.

"Fuck off," Sirius says, but without any true anger. "I'm still getting over my deep sadness."

"The wedding was nearly a year ago," James points out. 

"Don't remind me, Prongs." Sirius mimes wiping a tear off his cheek, screwing his face up in a devastated expression that's only given away by the sparkle in his grey eyes.

James knows it's just a joke. Sirius loves Lily as much as the rest of them. Merlin, Sirius was the one who encouraged him to go after Lily at the end of sixth year, was the one who helped to plan the wedding and stood in as his best man and gave a stupid, sentimental toast.

Sometimes, James wishes it wasn't a joke though. Sometimes, he wishes that Sirius was mad or sad or something that he married Lily. Sometimes, he wishes--. Well, maybe that's the problem. He doesn't know what he wishes or what he wants and it's not like he's going to ever find out, not when he's nineteen with a pregnant wife and a war to fight (to win, they used to say, but winning seems far away now).

"Y'okay there, James?" Sirius asks, knocking James out of his thoughts. He looks vaguely concerned.

"Fine." In a fit of bravery, James moves his hand up from Sirius's abdomen so it's resting flat against his chest. Sirius's shirt is thin, some old motorbike shirt James got him for his birthday years ago. Harley-Davidson, whatever that means.

Sirius watches his hand intently. There's pink blooming at the tips of his ears that are only visible because he cut his normally long hair short three weeks ago. It always gets James, the way he can make Sirius blush. Sirius, who's had a never-ending string of girlfriends since second year. Well, less so now, but there's a war going on, so.

"Getting handsy, are we, Prongs?" Sirius's voice is unreadable. "Lily too pregnant to do the deed?"

"No, I just--" James sucks in a breath, not sure what to say. This isn't because Lily's pregnant. This doesn't have anything to do with Lily. It never has.

This is something that developed in their childhood, in the dark Hogwarts dorms, curtains pulled, James's arms around Sirius, pressed against his back where the neat, purposeful ridges of scars are. This is something that came from nights of drinking and laughing and talking, from races on brooms under the moonlight and summers long passed spent at the pond behind James's childhood home.

This is something entirely different than what he has with Lily.

"Can't fuck tonight," Sirius says nonchalantly, but it's the kind of purposeful nonchalance James has grown to recognize. "Unless you want to explain to Lily why my wounds reopened and I've bled out."

James scoots over more so they're flush against each other. "Wanker. We can just..."

He trails off and leans forward and presses his lips gently against Sirius's, leaving them there for only about ten seconds. It's chaste in a way things rarely are for them, but when he pulls back he's excited to see Sirius's flush has spread to his cheeks.

"Gonna be the death of me, Potter," Sirius murmurs so low James isn't sure he's supposed to hear. "Suppose the boys won't miss us too much tonight."

James is about to agree, but Sirius's lips are already on his.


End file.
